Rayna is stuck on her wedding vows.
It's ridiculous when she thinks about it. She has written songs that have gone multi-platinum, this should be the easiest thing in the world for her. And it's even more ridiculous it's happening now, when her creativity seems to be back thriving.
Just focus on the love is the cliché advice Tandy had offered when she'd asked for a little help. She'd been tempted to point out that it's an advice her sister had chosen not to follow when she'd married Richard instead of her long-time flame Ian.
Rayna sighs.
All she has come up with yet is the word Luke at the top of a long blank page.
She crumples the sheet of paper into a ball, throws it in the bin and decides to postpone the task to a later time.
—
Rayna is 10 minutes early when she steps on Deacon's porch. It's the third time she comes here in two days, and the road to his house is starting to become familiar.
After dinner last night, Scarlett had insisted they all play cards until it was reasonably too late to go over the song's new verse. A writing session has been scheduled for this afternoon.
Before Rayna gets the chance to knock, the door opens to a beaming Scarlett. The girl grabs her hand and drags her inside.
"Hey, sweetheart."
She spots Deacon in a corner of the living room, next to a Christmas tree which wasn't there last night. A few cardboard boxes are scattered around him, and he's in the midst of putting them away in a closet. "Your timing is impeccable," he says, "we just finished decorating the tree."
"Have you put up your tree yet?" Scarlett asks.
"I usually don't. I'm not... a big fan of Christmas."
Scarlett's jaw drops. The idea that someone — worst, Rayna Jaymes — might not like Christmas sounds inconceivable to her. "You made a Christmas album," she points out.
"My label insisted I put one out with Luke," she scoffs, "and when I say insisted, I mean they were one step short of resorting to blackmail." Scarlett appears crestfallen, and it occurs to Rayna she probably should have kept that tidbit to herself. "But... yours is a beautiful tree," she tries to make up for it.
Scarlett now watches the tree like it has lost all its appeal.
Good job, Rayna. Ruining Christmas for kids.
In an attempt to cheer her up again, Rayna asks Scarlett about the tree's ornaments. When the girl starts to tell her little stories about each star and each snowflake, it looks like it's working.
"My mom made this one when she was a kid," she explains about an ornament that resembles a tiny vinyl record. "We hang it on the tree every year." There's a silence. "My mom is in heaven, you know," she feels the need to clarify.
This catches Rayna off guard. She's not sure what's the appropriate answer, so she goes for blunt honesty. "I lost my mom too. When I was just a bit older than you are."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Deacon doesn't join the conversation, but Rayna can see he's paying great attention to it. Scarlett stares at her, fascinated, like they are now both part of some bizarre, secret club. "Do you miss her?" she asks.
"I do. I very much do." She hates that, after all this time, her voice is still breaking the way it does and that she's on the verge of tears.
Deacon comes to her rescue. "Alright, cupcake, I think it's time you go annoy Vince upstairs while Rayna and I get to work, what do you think?"
Scarlett doesn't protest. Rayna can tell she's a good kid, even from the little time she has spent with her.
Scarlett heads to the door at the back of the apartment, the one that opens onto the house's stairwell. Her hand is on the handle when she stops and turns around. "Rayna?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"There's a talent show at my school tonight." It's not really a question, but Scarlett seems to be waiting for an answer nonetheless.
"Sounds like something I can't miss."
Scarlett starts to hum as she walks through the doorway and disappears into the corridor.
"It's really nice of you, but you know... you don't have to do that," Deacon says as he grabs a guitar from a hanger on the wall.
"Oh, no, I don't mind."
It will be a good excuse to spend more time with him. Not that she will tell him that. She won't even acknowledge it to herself.
—
Luke calls just as she's about to head out to the talent show.
She should tell him she has to leave, but then she would have to explain where she's going, and for some reason she'd rather not to.
She goes back to sit on her couch while they talk. They've been on the phone for about 15 minutes when she hears the voice of Jimmy, Luke's manager, in the background. Luke says he has to go, but he promises to call again tomorrow.
After they hang up, Rayna sends a text to Deacon to apologize and warn him she'll be late. The reply comes 10 seconds later.
It's okay, I'll save you a seat.
When she arrives at Scarlett's school, the hall is almost empty already. She asks the only person she can find where the auditorium is.
Deacon spots her before she spots him, and he waves at her. He'd had the good sense to pick two seats at the end of a row, so she just has to drop on the chair next to him without having to disturb a whole bunch of people.
"Hey," he says. If she'd feared he might be annoyed she's late, his bright smile reassures her otherwise. He hands her a program.
"What should I expect?" she asks.
"Hula hooping, magic tricks, harmonica playing... boy, you're in for a treat, Rayna Jaymes," he jokes, and she bursts out laughing. The parents sitting in front of them turn around with a disapproving look on their face.
"Sorry," she whispers.
Once they have turned back around, Deacon rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion, and she chuckles.
The lights go down, then, and kids begin to succeed each other on stage. From time to time, Deacon leans to whisper into her ear. She pretends she doesn't shiver when he does.
After 30 minutes or so, he checks the program. "I think it's Scarlett's turn," he says.
The girl walks in from the side of the stage, holding a small ukulele. She hops up on a stool, and she scans the room, looking for Deacon. When she sees Rayna sitting next to him, her smile lights up the whole auditorium.
"Hi, I'm Scarlett Claybourne, and this is a Rayna Jaymes song."
Rayna immediately recognizes the first notes of Can't Let Go, a song on her first album. She's impressed. The girl is good. But then, is it really surprising considering her family?
The auditorium claps and cheers after she is finished, and she gives a little curtsy before she runs off the stage.
After the show is over, Deacon is supposed to go pick up Scarlett backstage, but only the family is allowed, so she waits for them in the hall.
She feels more exposed now that she's alone. People keep glancing at her, and if one of them decides to come ask for an autograph, it will embolden all the others. It's like a pack of wolves.
Right on cue, a young woman approaches her.
By the time Deacon emerges from backstage with Scarlett, she has already signed seven programs and even one CD. The guy had sheepishly explained he'd run to his car and back to get it.
When Scarlett gets near, Rayna feigns to be shocked. "Oh my God, are you Scarlett Claybourne? Can I get an autograph?" she asks, handing her a pen and her own program. The girl giggles. Deacon crouches down so she can use his back to write.
She hands the program back to Rayna. "Here you go." She has drawn a little heart and what Rayna can only assume is a guitar above her name.
They all head to the parking lot then. Scarlett hugs her for the longest time.
As they are parting ways, Deacon grabs her hand. "Thank you for tonight," he says. "You made Scarlett's night. Probably her entire month too."
She smiles. "My pleasure."
—
She hasn't heard from Deacon in two days.
It's not unexpected as they aren't supposed to write together again until tomorrow, but she can't shake off this vague feeling of disappointment.
All she's been able to think about for the last two days is Deacon.
All she was thinking about while taking a last walk-through of the venue with the wedding planner was Deacon. All she was thinking about while confirming the setlist for the reception was Deacon. All she was thinking about while talking with the photographer was Deacon.
So, when her phone rings, she gets hopeful. Until she reads the name on the screen. "Hey, Watty."
"Hey, Ray. I haven't heard much from you since the other day."
"I'm sorry, Watty, I've been... busy." It's true, but not the whole story.
"Listen, I'm calling because Deacon has a gig coming up at the Bluebird."
Rayna's feeling of disappointment turns into hurt. Why hasn't Deacon mentioned this gig? Not that he was supposed to. But, still, it hurts. She can't help it.
"I'd arranged it for him some time ago," Watty continues, "and when I got him on the phone earlier, I asked if he'd invited you. He said he thought he'd already been monopolizing too much of your time, with the wedding next week and all, but I think you should go."
"When is it?" Rayna asks.
"Tonight, that's why I'm calling. Do you want me to pick you up on my way over there?"
She hesitates for all of two seconds. "What time?"
—
They use the backdoor to get inside the Bluebird. The gig has just started, and they quietly make their way to two empty stools at the bar.
Rayna can pinpoint the exact moment Deacon sees her. He's taken aback for a second. It's brief, and she's almost sure every other person in the room is oblivious to it, but she's not.
Deacon only does originals, and she swears, each new song is better than the last. The audience is captivated.
She is captivated.
There's something about the way he plays. Deacon didn't strike her as someone who likes to talk much, she'd noticed that from day one, and it appears everything he has to say, he puts it in his songs.
It feels like he has only just begun when he announces he has one more for them. He hesitates for a bit, clears his throat. And then, he looks like he has made up his mind.
"I've got a, uh, friend out there tonight, in the audience... a really talented friend, and I'm going to be bold and ask her if she would come up here and do a number with me." His eyes bore into hers. "Rayna?"
The people who hadn't noticed yet she was there all turn to her. A low hum builds in the room as they start whispering.
She gets up, walks to the stage, and somehow, all the while, she and Deacon don't take their eyes off each other. Someone brings a second stool for her.
He leans over to whisper into her ear. "Want to do our song?" he asks.
"I do."
His eyes lock onto hers again. He counts off — one, two, three — and everything around her fades to black. While they sing, nothing else exists anymore. It's just her, Deacon, and music.
It's the loud cheers that bring her back to reality. Watty, too, is clapping and watching them with a jubilant smile.
And then, she feels a rush of panic. Raw, powerful panic. As Deacon is thanking the audience, she gets off the stage, grabs her jacket, and runs outside. She's not sure exactly where she's running to. It's Watty who drove her here, and unless she wants to walk home, she'll have to wait for him.
The parking lot is empty, and the fresh air combined with the solitude help with her panic.
She breathes in.
Breathes out.
And then.
Then.
She hears him before she sees him.
When she turns around, she knows it's going to be him. She chooses to speak first. "I wish we hadn't done that song."
"Why?"
He knows why, or it means she has imagined it all, that thing, that miraculous, once-in-a-lifetime thing that happened while they were singing. She's not sure which option is worse.
He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to nervously rock back and forth on his feet.
She has not imagined it after all.
She's about to answer, but something stops her. They both look up as it starts to... snow. Not just a light dusting but big white flakes which stick to her jacket and feel straight out of a winter fairytale.
The universe can be so ridiculously unsubtle sometimes.
When they look at each other again, Deacon is smiling. "Alright, I'm going to kiss you now," he says, and she knows he's giving her time to protest, to stop him and leave which is what her head is screaming she should be doing.
Instead of retreating, she takes a step forward.
Deacon doesn't need more of an encouragement because in a second, his lips are on hers.
It would have made things so much easier if the kiss had turned out to be bad, if this wild pull to Deacon she has been feeling since the first time they wrote together had only revealed itself to be a twisted case of pre-wedding jitters.
But she can now safely say that it's not.
Very much not.
—
TBC